The Nica Post (Pt. 2)

We arrived in Matagalpa around 10pm, so the car ride would
most aptly be described as dark, something that was a little sad to me because
I love to look out the window. However, we arrived-worn out, but joyful-from a
successful day doing ministry in the city of Darío. In the darkness, all I could make out was a cross shining somewhere
above the city. When we got to the house, we quickly divvied up the beds and
crashed.

The next day was Sunday, and we were to attend a service at
a local church in Matagalpa. Walking out the door in the morning made me catch
my breath, as I realized that we were in a little city cradled by mountains on
all sides. Where ever I looked, there they were, green and towering. High above
the city, I found the cross I had seen as we arrived.

The church service was wonderful. There was a real freedom
to worship God there, and people danced, blew shofars, and pounded tambourines.
They were excited by the spirit of the Lord, and His presence was evident. I
did my best to translate for Danielle, but the pastor’s accent and way of
talking defeated my best efforts, and finally I stayed silent as we soaked up
the atmosphere of the place.

Miguel lookin' fly in an
ice cream parlor

After church, Scott took us to a place he knew of near the
center of town, a little ice cream shop called Bésame. I would probably have named it El Cielo (Heaven). All of the ice
cream was homemade, and the décor was beautiful, AND there was coffee, too.
Seriously-heaven. The owners are a couple from California and Costa Rica,
respectively, and if you’re ever in Matagalpa, Nicaragua, please go check out
their store. You will not regret it.

Monday found us on the side of a mountain outside of the
city. Project Hope has a small cafeteria there, in a village called Sol María, where children can come and eat
lunch for free. As it was explained to me, they used to only operate it during
the school year, but government funding is now allwoing them to keep it open
during the summer, as well because of the need in the village. It is a very
poor place, where the homes are constructed of metal and wood, with dirt floors
and a lot of exposure. Most places do not have electricity or running water,
and children are usually the ones dispensed to get the buckets of drinking and
cooking water at the well. The children were dirty and loud, but filled with
love.

We arrived in the morning, ready to clean up the cafeteria
and cook some food, only to find that the pastor had scoured the place in
anticipation of our visit and the food was already in the process of being
cooked. Because I’m actually a six year old, and prefer to hang out with people
in my own age range, I had the opportunity to play with a lot the children.
Where ever we went, there were children everywhere, probably because it was
their “summer” vacation. The school year runs February-November in Nicaragua,
giving everyone a nice holiday off for Christmas. Joe started a baseball game,
and we played. We danced, we ran, and we fell down. Danielle and I gave piggy
back rides until we couldn’t carry any more kids, and then we played some more.
In the middle of their poverty, these children who have almost nothing were so
joyful, just because they were playing While we played, I had the chance to
talk to them, and what I heard broke my heart.

They told me all sorts of things. How going to school wasn’t
always possible because there were no supplies. How they were staying with
cousins because mom didn’t have food for them right now. How grandma took care
of them because mom had to harvest coffee. How they got new shoes, but they
were saving them for school. How sometimes there wasn’t enough to eat. How they
had never seen their daddies, or not for a long time.

That’s the thing that gave me the jolt I needed. I remembered
that this was what I was made for. Not just for “missions work,” and not to go
out into the world and try to change things myself. I am inefficient and
ineffectual; it’s a proven fact. But I can serve. I can go out and play with
children and tell them about a God who cares for them. I can look hurting kids
in the eye and tell them about a God who will never abandon them, even if their
parents may have. In the middle of playing with dirty children in the middle of
a village on the side of a mountain in Nicaragua, I was reminded of what I was
made for, and what I was supposed to be doing.

That night, Scott had decided we were going to host a party.
He has a lot of friends in the city of Matagalpa, and the last time he had been
in Nicaragua, he had promised to get in contact with a lot of them. Ruth and
Cecy planned most of it, getting together the food-Scott ended up hosting a
Mexican fiesta, much to the chagrin of some of the invitees. Nicaraguans don’t
feel as strongly about picante as
Mexicans do. I’m not sure how many people he invited, but about 25 people showed
up, and then Earl Rutledge got out a guitar and the party really got started.
We all just started worshiping and praising the Lord together, this community
of people from Europe, Central America, and North America. We were so far gone
we forgot about the food for a while!

The next day, we were working again with Project Hope. This
time, we went to another village, up the side of another mountain. When we
arrived, there was already a line of children standing outside of the door of
the church. This was the day they were getting new shoes. We came, with our
boxes of shoes, and readied our things. Ita grabbed her camera and began
snapping shots as we filled basins of water and pulled out chairs. As the
children came in, they each received a pair of shoes in their size. We pulled
off their dirty, sometimes broken shoes and sandals, and carefully washed each
little toe on each little foot. As we washed, we prayed over the lives of those
children, often asking if there was anything they needed prayer for, sickness
or parents, anything. Then we slid their feet into their new shoes, and away
they went, as we prepared for the next child.

When all of this was over, someone told me I was doing a
good job. Those words kind of gave me a pause. For the life of me, I couldn’t
remember the last time someone had told me that and I had believed it, without
qualifying it either verbally or mentally. We’re so quick to tear ourselves
down that we rarely ever even seem to hear the words when someone compliments
us. And I get it-the bad stuff is easier to believe, because that’s what we’re
confronted with and what we confront ourselves with. But just those little
words-You’re doing a good job-I actually allowed myself to feel, and accept.
And that compliment made my day. We spent the afternoon taking in the sights of Matagalpa, and rocketing ourselves down a zipline on the side of one of the mountains. It was, without a doubt, completely awesome!

Wednesday was our last full day in Nicaragua. We were
supposed to be driven to the neighboring city of Jintega in Earl’s van, but his
youngest son Luke came down suddenly with appendicitis and had spent Tuesday
night getting his appendix out; needless to say, Earl was a little busy. Pastor
Raul, who lives next door to Earl’s house in Matagalpa, volunteered to take us
in his pickup, and so five fearless adventurers piled into the back while the
other four members of the team climbed into the cab. Here’s a note to you guys:
when crossing mountain passes in a pickup, I would highly suggest riding in the
cab, as it can get rather cold and wet in the unprotected back of the pickup as
you climb higher and higher into the clouds.

Note the death grip on the cup of coffee!

Our day in Jinotega was restful as we bummed around the
city, looking (and failing to find, for the most part) souvenirs to bring home.
We did find a lot of good food though. After Earl’s wife Beverly fed us the
best enchilada’s I’ve ever had, some of the team went to climb up to a lookout
point just above the city. I stayed behind, and got to spend some time talking
with Beverly and washing her dishes-at least until nine-year-old Esperanza
pushed me out of the way, explaining that I wasn’t washing them correctly.
Having been thoroughly chastised, I occupied myself with serving ice cream for
the rest of the team.

That night, we held a service at Pastor Raul’s church, La
Fuente. Jim preached, but what it really was was an initiation to come and be
ministered to. As the people came and
were prayed for, I was amazed by the gifts that God had placed in my fellow
teammates to minster to the people. For me, what that time really drove home
was the necessity of being in close relationship with the Lord, because the
closer you are to Him, the more He can minster through you. It was an amazing
night; the Lord really began to work in the church, and His presence was
palpable.

After all of that, I couldn’t sleep. Joe, Danielle and I
ended up staying up pretty late into the night, talking about ourselves and the
things God had done and was doing in our lives. Once again, I was floored by
these people I had just recently come to call my friends. One of the things I
took from that three hour conversation was the conviction that I needed to
change the way I was living my life. Because it was very evident to me that my
life was not giving the same testimony that I had been witnessing all week from
the two of them, and it was more evident to me that that was what I needed. Not
just words. Not just saying I loved God, and not just saying I was serving Him.
Not wandering through the motions of it all in the office or in the dorm but
missing the real heart of it. What I really needed was a real touch of God in
my life, and a passion to pursue holiness. What I needed was a revolution.

Which more or less brings us to today, a few weeks after
coming back. I’ve spent a lot of the past couple of weeks processing my
trip. Where I went, what we did, who I was with-it all seems to me like something
of a divine appointment, exactly what I needed for where I was at that point in
time. I’m a work in progress (aren’t we all?), and all of those things that I
realized about myself and the things God is calling me to while I was in
Nicaragua are only just starting to germinate and really take root in me. So I’m
going to mind the plants and weed as necessary, and pray to start showing some
fruit in me soon.

That’s all I’ve got for you today. Stay tuned for some
fabulous children-related blogs, a rant about how much I love Oswald Chambers
and who the heck he actually was, anyways, and a new What You Don’t Know
installment, all coming this February! More Poverty Becomes You, coming your way!